


Only Sunshine

by orphan_account



Series: 500 Words of Stucky [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: And some scars, Bucky's got a metal arm, Call your dentist before hand, Concubine!Steve, Freeform, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Steve's lazy in the mornings, Sweetness aplenty, War King!Bucky, lots of snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Must you be so quick to leave this place?”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Must I? Yes,” James hums. “Will I? No.”</i></p><p> </p><p>In which mornings are lazy, James will be late for Kingly things, and Steve is just fine with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Sunshine

Cold fingers wake him. They’re a disconnect, the antithesis to the warm patch of satin sheets he swims in on a daily basis. Before he even opens his eyes he smiles, because he knows where he is, what he’s done, and what he will be doing. However cold and hard the fingers may be, the caress is nothing short of gentle. Possessive, yes. Dangerous, absolutely. But gentle. 

“I know you’re awake, sweet sunshine,” whispers the Sun. He tilts his head, feels a warm puff of break across his face. The bed creaks, even in all of its pomp and glory it squeaks, as the Sun shifts to hover above him. It’s a warm and solid thing, so unlike the hand made of winter in his hair. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m most certainly asleep,” he argues. The Sun laughs, warm and deep. Soft silky wisps of autumn bark drift over his face and tickle his nose. He’s unable to keep his eyes shut, so he opens them. Above him, the Sun smiles, all bright teeth and wrinkles next to moonstone eyes. “Your hair is in my nose.”

“Oh, boo,” cooes the Sun. It laughs at him, and he laughs with it, reaching up to smooth some of the autumn hair back behind the Sun’s ear. “Good morning, my sunshine.”

“Good morning, Sire.”

“Oh, will it be that way?” The Sun grins again and ducks his head, nosing beneath his jaw. The Sun tastes his skin, kisses up his neck and beneath his ear. “ ‘Sire,’ am I?”

“Only when I want something,” he says. The Sun laughs against his neck, warm and low. Winter’s Grip takes hold of hair made of sunshine and holds it tight. He gasps. 

“So true.” The Sun, better known as King James, lifts his head. His sunshine, better known as Steven, smiles up at him gently. Sleep hangs in the corners of his smile and make his eyes more storm cloud grey than sunny blue. “We can’t be lazing about all morning. I’ve things I must do.”

“Ah, but this is my job, after all,” Steven whispers. He traces the contours of the King’s face, the plush lips, the scar over his right eye. “To lazy about in your bed and keep it warm.”

“And you’re so good at it,” James smiles and his eyes wrinkle in that way Steven likes ever so. It had taken him so, so long to coax that smile from his king. Now the man throws it around like it had never fled his face, like the scar over his eye and Winter’s Grip had never frozen his heart. Steven was his sunshine, a steady and bright light in the King’s lonely life; He Who Melted the Heart of Ice. 

“I like to think so,” they laugh again. Its lazy and warm in their bed, surrounded by a gentle spring breeze and gauzy curtains. The King’s remaining hand makes lazy map lines down Steven’s chest. “Must you be so quick to leave this place?”

“Must I? Yes,” James hums. “Will I? No.”

“Good,” Steven lifts both of his hands, with the pale and slender fingers of an artist, to curls them into the soft nest of tangles that the King’s hair becomes every night. Just before their lips meet, he smiles again. “Good.”


End file.
